


Who Needs Memories?

by keijiwrites



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, M/M, Memory Loss, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27162328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keijiwrites/pseuds/keijiwrites
Summary: It was during a practice match with the Adlers, the day Atsumu’s life was tilted on its axis. It was abrupt, no one was expecting Kiyoomi to receive a spike from Ushijima right on the face while going for a block. Kiyoomi had fallen from the sheer force of the spike, banging his head against the floor with a sickening thump.All Atsumu recalls was a guttural ‘Omi’ leaving his lips when he noticed the wing spiker was not getting up.-Sakusa Kiyoomi loses his memories.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 364





	Who Needs Memories?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first Sakuatsu fic and I’m kinda proud at how it turned out, I hope you all enjoy!

It was during a practice match with the Adlers, the day Atsumu’s life was tilted on its axis. It was abrupt, no one was expecting Kiyoomi to receive a spike from Ushijima right on the face while going for a block. Kiyoomi had fallen from the sheer force of the spike, banging his head against the floor with a sickening  _ thump. _

All Atsumu recalls was a guttural ‘Omi’ leaving his lips when he noticed the wing spiker was not getting up. 

He was sitting in the hospital waiting room, fiddling with the hem of his jacket, leg jiggling non-stop. Kiyoomi’s parents were sitting next to him, looking just as worried as he felt. Two hours later, the doctor came out. Atsumu shot up to his feet, questions getting stuck on the lump in his throat. 

“Sakusa-kun was put into an induced coma.” The doctor explained. “It was necessary to avoid further damage to his brain.”

“Damage?” Kiyoomi’s mother sounded appalled, fingers shaking as she covered her mouth. 

“There is a possibility he might lose part of his memory due to the concussion received. There is still no way to know how much nor how long it will last.” 

Atsumu felt his stomach plummet as he fell against the chair. He covered his face with his hands, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. Kiyoomi could lose memories, memories they made together. 

“Atsumu-kun.”

Atsumu raised his head, tears blurring his vision. “Yes?”

“The doctor said family only for now.” Kiyoomi’s mother sat next to him, hands in her lap. “I will call and let you know on any updates.”

Atsumu nodded mutely and stood from the chair. He bowed at the Sakusa’s, apologizing he couldn’t do more. Kiyoomi’s mother hugged him tightly, his father patted Atsumu’s back, both of them reassuring him Kiyoomi would be alright.

Atsumu was feeling hopeless.

Atsumu visited the hospital everyday for a week. He wasn’t able to see Kiyoomi, but it was comforting for him to be in the same building. It wasn’t until the second week that Kiyoomi was stable enough for Atsumu to visit him. 

He sat in the chair next to the bed, holding Kiyoomi’s hand in his own. The palm of Kiyoomi’s hand was warm, but his fingertips were cold. Atsumu took it upon himself to stretch Kiyoomi’s hands, mindful of the IV needle in his hand. 

He visited everyday, whether it was before or after practice. He kept the team updated on his status, there wasn’t much to say. Everything was very much the same. 

It wasn’t until three weeks after the accident that Kiyoomi managed to move a finger. It was a small movement, a twitch. Atsumu would have missed it had he not been holding Kiyoomi’s hand. He immediately called for a nurse. 

Four weeks later, Kiyoomi woke up. 

Atsumu was in the waiting room, legs jiggling from nerves. He wanted to know what was going on. He had panicked when Kiyoomi woke up, calling for a doctor and being more or less kicked out of the room. 

“Family only.” The nurse had told him. 

Atsumu thought it was stupid. He was - well, almost - family. He and Kiyoomi were going to tie the knot in two months. He was hoping everything would turn out alright.

An hour later, Kiyoomi’s father walked out to the waiting room. Atsumu felt dread pooling in the pit of his stomach at the somber look in the man’s face. 

Atsumu swallowed, his mouth felt like cotton. “Is. . . is it bad?”

“Kiyoomi lost the last two years. The doctor explained there might be a possibility of him regaining his memories. It’s still small, but not impossible.”

Atsumu’s gaze fell on his hands. He swallowed thickly. “So. . . He doesn’t remember. . . anything?”

Kiyoomi’s father placed a firm hand on Atsumu’s shoulder.

It was answer enough. 

Atsumu’s pillow had never been so damp.

* * *

Atsumu wanted to see Kiyoomi but it was recommended by the doctor not to see anyone other than family. They didn’t want Kiyoomi to be overwhelmed with the onslaught of information and trigger something. It was better to ease him into it. 

He was due to be released in three days. Atsumu was told by Kiyoomi’s parents he would be staying with them, he didn’t know he was engaged to Atsumu, or that they were dating, he did know they were in the same team. 

The day before Kiyoomi was discharged, his mother passed by the apartment. Atsumu had packed everything into bags and helped her bring them down to the car.

He felt bile rise in his throat as he shut the trunk, Kiyoomi wouldn’t be coming home. 

* * *

Atsumu was holed up in his room when the buzzer of the front door went off. He didn’t want to get up, he didn’t  _ have  _ to. He was tired. Tired of crying, tired of pretending everything was okay, tired of lying to everyone, tired of thinking.

Miya Atsumu was tired of being tired. 

His phone buzzed from somewhere under his sheets. He slapped his hand around the bed until he felt it, promptly hanging up on whoever it was. 

He wanted to be left alone. 

The buzzer began to go off incessantly. 

It had to be Osamu. He was the only insane one to be visiting him. 

With a sound akin to a growl, Atsumu got up from bed and buzzed his brother in. He knew the code to the apartment, he could let himself in whenever he wanted. 

“Annoying ass.” He muttered.

Atsumu curled up on the couch, staring at the wall. His vision blurred at the pictures hanging on it. 

Kiyoomi wasn’t one to take pictures, he said he looked unflattering, and every time they went to take one he would look like he was grimacing. Atsumu didn’t care, he wanted to have special moments recorded one way or another and pictures seemed like the best idea. 

Atsumu wanted to kick his past self. 

Pictures were the only thing he had left of Kiyoomi. 

He swallowed back a sob at the picture that made his vision blur with tears.

It was on the day they had become engaged. Their cheeks were squished together in a rather unflattering way, Atsumu was holding his hand up showing off the simple, silver band, smiling wide with tear tracks down his face and Kiyoomi had a smile on his face. A  _ real _ smile, not a fake one he gave to people he was trying to be polite with. 

“This place looks like shit.”

“Shut up, ‘Samu.”

Osamu stood in front of his brother, blocking the view of the wall. Atsumu looked up, glaring at him.

“What are ya doin’ ‘ere?”

Osamu nodded his head towards the kitchen. Atsumu noticed a bag of the restaurant, probably filled with leftover onigiri from the day before.

“‘M not hungry.”

“Not askin’ ya. Eat and for fucks sake take a shower. Ya smell like shit.” 

Atsumu ate a total of two rice balls, claiming he felt like he was going to hurl if he took another bite. Begrudgingly, he took a shower and sat in the bath staring at the ceiling. 

He didn’t get out until the water went cold. 

Osamu stayed the night, crashing in the guest bedroom. 

Atsumu didn’t sleep. His eyes were glued on his phone, scrolling through his and Kiyoomi’s text messages. Kiyoomi’s bluntness and almost apathetic tone brought a wry smile to Atsumu’s face. 

Osamu woke him up the next morning, claiming they were going for a jog. Atsumu didn’t want to. He had practice in a few hours and he wanted to save as much energy as possible for it. He felt like he could collapse any minute. 

Osamu called him a shithead before leaving the room only to come back and drag Atsumu out for breakfast. The bleached blond glared at his food for a minute before giving his thanks and eating. He wasn’t hungry, but Osamu’s kick on his shin was enough to get him to eat something. 

Midway through practice, Coach Foster called them over. The team huddled up around him; Atsumu had a bitter feeling in his mouth. 

“As you all know, Sakusa suffered a great accident and what happened because of it. I contacted him this morning and we came to the agreement that he will be in the second roster for the time being. This is until he recovers.”

Coach Foster continued speaking, but Atsumu subconsciously blocked out everything else he said. His chest felt like it was concaving and his hands were balled into tight fists.

A rather harsh pat on his back grounded him. He looked up and was met with golden eyes. Bokuto smiled at him lopsidedly; Atsumu couldn’t return it.

The rest of practice went by in a daze, Atsumu’s body was working on autopilot. He knew he wasn’t concentrating and his sets were half-assed. He wasn’t surprised when he was benched and ordered to rest for the remainder of the week.

Atsumu shut the door of his apartment closed and leaned against it. He dropped his bag on the floor as he kicked off his shoes in the  _ genkan _ . 

He needed to sleep. 

Sleep didn’t come for Atsumu that night.

* * *

The rest of his week went by in the same pattern.

Stay in bed, eat - because Osamu would drag him out of bed, shower - Osamu obligating him again - and go back to bed. Something inside him told him to at least go for a jog or clean the apartment, the other side of him told him to stay in bed and not talk to anyone. The second voice won every day. 

He was ignoring his phone, no matter who called or messaged him.

At the end of the week, Osamu and Suna were at Atsumu’s apartment. Osamu was making dinner while Suna lounged on the couch watching tv. Atsumu sat at the kitchen table, hands locked in front of him. 

“I want t’ move out.” 

Silence engulfed the three of them. It was heavy and thick, it could be cut with the knife Osamu was currently holding.

“ _ Why _ ?” 

“It. . . doesn’t feel like home anymore.” Atsumu’s eyes were glued on his hands, knuckles white. “The bed’s too big, it’s cold in here all the fucking time. I can’t do this anymore.” His vision blurred with unshed tears. “It’s not home without Omi. Plus, the lease is ending in a month anyways.”

After a beat of silence, Osamu sighed. “Fine. We’ll help ya look for somethin’.”

“ _ We _ sounds like a lot of people.” Suna commented offhandedly.

Atsumu scrubbed at his eyes, too tired to answer with a snarky retort. 

* * *

A month later, Osamu, Bokuto and Hinata were helping Atsumu move his things from the apartment to the moving truck. The setter took a moment to admire the apartment. It was completely bare, stripped of everything that reminded Atsumu of the good and bad times. He couldn’t help but smile sorrowfully, clutching at the ring around his neck. 

“Miya?”

The man in question tensed, frozen in his spot with wide eyes. The smile had been wiped off his face, mouth hanging open the slightest bit.

He hadn’t heard that voice in  _ months _ . 

Atsumu’s knees weakened but he held himself upright by placing a hand on the wall. He took a deep breath and turned around, brown eyes meeting obsidian. 

“Omi.” The nickname came out breathless. “What are ya doin’ here?”

Kiyoomi’s eyes wandered over the empty apartment. He stood in the  _ genkan _ , hands shoved inside the pockets of his jacket, mask covering his face. 

“My mother accidentally told me that you and I were together.”

Atsumu’s breath caught in his throat.

“And that this is where we lived.”

“Oh, um.” He cleared his throat, hand still around the ring. “Yeah we were.”

Kiyoomi only hummed. “For someone as persistent as you, I thought you’d call.”

Atsumu felt his heart wrench in his chest. “Ah, well, I thought I didn’ have any kind of say in that. Yer doctor also said not t’ overwhelm ya.”

“So you’re admitting you’re overwhelming.” 

Atsumu sputtered. “Tha’s not what I meant!” His annoyance melted when he heard Kiyoomi’s quiet chuckle. 

Atsumu couldn’t hold back his tears anymore. Hot, fat tears rolled down his face as he hung his head to try and conceal them. He roughly wiped at his eyes, internally chastising himself for breaking down in front of Kiyoomi. “I’m sorry. Sorry.” He sniffled and straightened himself, eyes still stinging. “I just- Sorry.” 

Kiyoomi was staring at him with wide eyes. “Miya-“

“Oi, Tsumu, truck’s- oh.” Osamu smiled at Kiyoomi, exchanging pleasantries. He turned to his twin. “Truck’s leavin’.” 

“Oh.”

“I should leave then.” Kiyoomi nodded his head at the twins and stood by the door for a second. “My number’s still the same.” 

Atsumu blinked at the doorway where Kiyoomi stood a few seconds ago. He couldn’t hold himself upright anymore, his knees gave out, landing with a loud  _ thump _ on the floor. Sobs racked his body, hard enough to choke on them and gag. He couldn’t hear Osamu’s voice telling him to breathe with him. 

Atsumu heaved in a breath that ended up in a coughing fit. His lungs were burning and his mouth felt like it was filled with sandpaper. 

A harsh slap on his back grounded Atsumu enough to gulp in a breath. His shoulders were shaking, one hand supporting his weight while the other clutched his shirt. 

“Fucks sake, ‘Tsumu.  _ Breathe _ .” 

“Hurts, ‘Samu.”

“I know, come on.”

With Osamu’s help, Atsumu managed to get on his feet. His knees were wobbly yet stable enough to walk to the elevator by himself. 

The car ride to the MSBY apartment complex was quiet. Atsumu had decided to move there instead of finding another place. He thought it was the smartest decision, he would have his teammates around and it was minutes away from the court the team used.

The four men and the movers brought all of the boxes into the apartment. With six pairs of hands it was done in less than two hours. Osamu had to leave, claiming he had things to do so Bokuto and Hinata stayed behind to help unpack. 

Atsumu was in his room, unpacking while Hinata and Bokuto unpacked Lord knows what. He had finished unpacking his clothes, folding them neatly and tucking them in the drawers. 

_ The way Omi did. _

He shook his head and opened the box of miscellaneous things, the picture of the engagement staring at him. He gingerly took it out, rubbing his thumb over Kiyoomi’s smiling face. 

With a heavy sigh, Atsumu tucked the picture in the back of his closet. 

Practice resumed asusual. Atsumu vowed to himself he wouldn’t let his personal feelings interfere with his career. 

It was easier said than done. Every time he tossed a ball during practice, he was itching to call out ‘Nice kill, Omi’ and have Sakusa give him a deadpanned look in return. 

Every night he had to physically stop himself from reaching for his phone to call or message Sakusa. He wanted to tell him about his day and ask how he was doing, had he remembered anything? Was he coming back to the first roster? 

Atsumu only buried himself deeper in his blankets, looking for a warmth that wasn’t there. 

* * *

One Friday evening, Atsumu was in Osamu’s shop, cheek on the counter, pouting. His shoulders were slumped as he complained about his failed attempts at trying out a new set with Oliver.

His phone buzzed just as Osamu placed a fatty tuna onigiri in front of him. His heartbeat sped up when he saw ‘Message from Omi’ on his screen. He stared at it with wide eyes.

“Well, ya gonna answer or not?” 

Atsumu looked up at his twin who had a bored look on his face but he knew Osamu was worried for him. 

“I … don’t know. Open it for me.”

Osamu rolled his eyes but obliged as Atsumu stuffed half of the onigiri in his mouth. The man was nervous. Osamu raised a single brow at the message and looked at his brother.

“He’s asking’ if ya want t’ meet up for lunch.”

Atsumu scrambled to take his phone from Osamu, nearly choking on his food. 

**_Omi_ ** _ : Are you free tomorrow? I would like to meet up for lunch and talk. _

Atsumu’s heart was in his throat. He read the message various times before setting it down. He buried his face in his hands, not knowing what to answer. He wanted to see Kiyoomi, he did. He didn’t want to make things worse by accidentally overwhelming Kiyoomi and fucking it up. Of course, there was the possibility of Kiyoomi remembering something if Atsumu was around him, yet Atsumu was apprehensive.

Atsumu scoffed to himself.  _ Apprehensive _ .

“I answered for ya.”

“ _ What?! _ ” Atsumu not so graciously ripped his phone from Osamu’s hands and saw his reply.

**_Me:_ ** _ im free tomorrow after 12 _

Atsumu’s phone buzzed with Kiyoomi’s reply. He nearly dropped it on the counter.

**_Omi:_ ** _ Is the ramen shop near Osamu’s shop at 13:00 okay? _

Atsumu swallowed his nerves before answering.

**_Me:_ ** _ yeah it’s fine see ya tomorrow _

He put his phone down, his forehead falling on the counter with a loud  _ thump. _ “Why did ya do that?”

“Because yer a coward who would’ve said no.”

Atsumu clicked his tongue in response.

* * *

Atsumu was a bundle of nerves as he entered the ramen shop. He was  _ twenty  _ minutes early, nerves getting the best of him. Thankfully, the shop was relatively empty. Atsumu sat down and ordered a glass of water to calm his nerves. 

It didn’t help. 

Atsumu was jiggling his leg under the table, checking his phone every two seconds. He made the grave mistake of arriving early. Two different waitresses had passed by the table, asking if he needed anything else. Atsumu waved them off with a polite smile, saying he was waiting for someone. 

Atsumu had his face in his hands when he heard the scraping of a chair across from him. He shot up, making eye contact with Kiyoomi as he sat down. His nerves tripled as he swallowed the lump in his throat. It had been too long since they had sat across from each other having a meal; Atsumu felt his stomach twist.

“Did you order anything yet?”

“Ah, no. Was waitin’ for ya.”

Kiyoomi hummed and squinted at the glass of water. “How long have you been here?”

Atsumu decided to be honest, mumbling, “Long enough to have two waitresses come by.” He was taken aback at the quiet chuckle that Kiyoomi let out.

The waitress came by and took their orders. Neither of them spoke, Atsumu fiddling with the ring hanging on his necklace and Kiyoomi looked everywhere but at Atsumu.

Atsumu knew he needed to detach himself from said ring, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Not when it meant so much to him.

“Does that ring have any special meaning?”

Atsumu nearly jumped out of his skin at the question. He looked up at Kiyoomi who was staring at the general area of Atsumu’s chest. The latter looked down at the ring and smiled. “Yeah, it does.”

Kiyoomi merely hummed. Atsumu wished he didn’t have a mask on, he wanted to gauge the other man’s reaction. He felt the lump in his throat return, he cleared his throat.

“So, um, what did ya want to talk about?” Better rip off the band aid at once.

Kiyoomi straightened in his chair, placing his hands on his lap. “I want to know about us.”

Atsumu shifted in his seat. He suddenly felt the bead of sweat running down his back.  _ Gross.  _ He cleared his throat again before speaking. “Well, I confessed to ya ‘round two years ago. You said no at first and then asked me out a month later.” Atsumu chuckled at the memory, a fond smile gracing his lips. “Was kinda funny. Ya looked like ya hadn’t taken a shit in a week.” 

Kiyoomi grunted. “Why do you need to be so crude?” 

“‘S part of the charm.” He smirked, yet it quickly turned into a softer smile. “We moved in together a year later.” 

Atsumu was interrupted by the waitress bringing their food and drinks. They thanked her, mumbling a ‘thank you for the meal’ before digging in. 

The bleached blond finished his third mouthful before he continued speaking. “I’m not sure how much yer mom told ya, but. . . we were engaged.” Atsumu didn’t look up from his meal, stomach suddenly tightening. He heard Kiyoomi set his chopsticks down.

“I need to be honest with you, Miya.” 

Atsumu looked up from his food. Kiyoomi had a slight frown on his face, nothing inherently new, but it was a different kind of frown. 

“What is it?”

“I remembered something. About us. It was the day we got engaged.”

Atsumu’s breath caught in his throat, stomach plummeting to his feet. 

“When was that?”

“Five months before the accident.”

“That’s the ring, isn’t it.” 

It wasn’t a question, but a statement. 

Atsumu’s hands turned into fists under the table. 

“I’m sorry, Atsumu.”

_ Atsumu _ .

It had been a while since he heard his name coming out of Kiyoomi’s mouth. 

Wait,  _ what? _

“ _ Huh? _ ” Atsumu furrowed his brows when Kiyoomi’s words replayed in his head. “There’s nothing t’ be sorry ‘bout. ‘S not yer fault.” He sighed before sliding the necklace off. He placed it in the middle of the table, hands shaking slightly. “Was probably kind of stupid of me t’ hold onto it. Yer mom told me there was a possibility that you’d never remember.” His sight was locked on the ring; his eyes burned but no tears were being spilled. “Sorry, if it made ya uncomfortable. ‘S not what I intended.”

“Why?”

Atsumu blinked twice before looking up at Kiyoomi. He saw the twitch of an eyebrow. “Why what?”

“Why are you acting like I’m made of glass, Miya?”

“I-I’m not! Swear!” He held up his hands in front of him. 

“Then why are you treating me differently from everyone else? Why are you acting like I’m  _ vulnerable  _ and can’t take a simple, playful insult?” His tone sounded exasperated with a hint of melancholy. 

The setter placed his hands on his lap and smiled wistfully at the man in front of him. “It’s gonna sound dumb but, love changes people, Omi.”

Kiyoomi’s eyes widened a fraction, mouth forming an ‘o’. 

“I mean, we still threw insults at each other, mostly you, by the way. But, I don’ wanna accidentally trigger somethin’. Ya did say I’m overwhelming’.” 

Kiyoomi huffed out a chuckle. “You are. Just… don’t treat me like I’m fragile. Because I’m not.”

“Can’t promise anything.”

“Whatever.” 

Atsumu asked the waitress if he could get his meal to go; he knew he wouldn’t eat until later in the evening. They stayed in silence as Kiyoomi finished his meal and bickered as to who would be paying the bill; they ended up splitting it. 

The nostalgia hit Atsumu like a bucket of cold water. He missed their petty bickering. 

Atsumu walked Kiyoomi to the station. Twice Kiyoomi told him he didn’t have to but Atsumu ignored him. At the entrance of the station, Atsumu slowed his steps as Kiyoomi stopped in front of him. 

“Thank you. For agreeing to meet with me.” Kiyoomi had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

“Oh, it’s no problem.” Atsumu rubbed the back of his head subconsciously. “Just, uh, let me know if ya need anythin’.”

“Thanks.” Kiyoomi turned on his heel and walked inside the station.

Atsumu felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest. 

* * *

A week passed after they met for lunch. Every evening Atsumu would receive a message from Kiyoomi, asking how his day had been. He answered earnestly, happy Kiyoomi had begun to reach out to him. It was strange, however. Atsumu could feel Kiyoomi’s apprehension in his messages which pained him just a little bit. 

Two weeks passed, nothing major had changed yet Atsumu could feel Kiyoomi slowly warming up to him through messages. They weren’t as formal and he began to use kaomojis; they always made Atsumu smile like an idiot. 

One Saturday evening, Atsumu was in Osamu’s shop, stuffing his face with fatty tuna onigiri. He was scrolling on his phone idly as his brother attended to other customers. 

He nearly dropped his phone when it began buzzing in his hand,  _ Omi (/^▽^)/ _ flashing on the screen. He swallowed before answering the phone. “Omi-kun.”

“Are you busy right now?”

Atsumu was taken aback by the sudden question. He squinted and answered, “Not particularly. Why?”

“Did you have dinner?”

Oh. 

Oh!

“Does half an onigiri count?”

“No.”

“Then no I haven’.”

“I’ll pick you up in an hour at your place.”

“So straightforward, Omi~.”

Atsumu received a grunt before the line died. He tried to hide the giddiness that was coursing through his veins. He - apparently - didn’t do a good job at hiding it if Osamu’s deadpan look directed his way was anything to go by. 

He shoved the rest of the onigiri in his mouth before cleaning the area and bidding goodbye to his brother. He went to his apartment and got ready in record time, making sure he showered thoroughly and his hair was styled properly. He wasn’t sure if this was a date or not but he wanted to look his best.

It was the first time since the accident he was excited about something. 

He finished getting ready in the nick of time. Just as he was slipping his shoes on in the  _ genkan _ , Kiyoomi called him to let him know he’d arrived. 

Atsumu hurried down the stairs. For the first time in months, he felt giddy. He was excited to see Kiyoomi. 

He stopped midway down, frozen as a thought crossed his mind.

_ Is… this a date? _

He shook the thought away. It was no time to think about that now. 

He made it downstairs and hopped in Kiyoomi’s car with a grin on his face. The silence was filled with Atsumu’s idle chatter, telling Kiyoomi about how Osamu and Suna were doing, how his mother had made them visit the week prior because it had been a while since she had seen her sons. 

“And then ‘Samu-”

“Atsumu.”

Atsumu stopped talking and turned to Kiyoomi, noticing the car had stopped.

“We’re here.”

“Oh, oops.” Atsumu unbuckled his seatbelt and got down, staring at the restaurant in front of him. “Is this-”

Kiyoomi looked away, ears red. 

Atsumu turned back to the restaurant, feeling like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. 

This was the restaurant where they had their first date. And where Kiyoomi proposed. 

Atsumu felt his eyes water, quickly wiping away his tears with the back of his hands. 

“If it’s too much-“

Atsumu shook his head with a snort. “ _ I _ should be telling  _ ya _ that, Omi-kun.” He shot a smile at the wing spiker. “I’m starving, let’s go in.”

Kiyoomi nodded and they walked inside. 

Atsumu wasn’t sure if he would’ve considered it a date. Kiyoomi hadn’t specified if it was. However, he felt his nerves soaring. It felt like the first time all over again, hands shaking slightly in nerves, palms sweating and toes squirming inside his shoes. 

“Um, Omi.”

Kiyoomi hummed, acknowledging Atsumu yet eyes on the menu. 

Atsumu swallowed. “Is this-“

“Hello. Welcome to Bistrot d’Anjou.” The waiter smiled at Atsumu and Kiyoomi politely before asking if they wanted to start with drinks. 

Atsumu ordered a beer; he felt like he needed at least to get through with the question on the tip of his tongue. 

The waiter left, Atsumu turned to Kiyoomi who was watching him expectantly. 

He swallowed before asking, “Is this a date?” His heart constricted in his chest as the words left his mouth. He didn’t know if he was ready for the answer. He wanted one, he did, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear it. 

Kiyoomi sighed, leaning back on his chair. He brought his black mask down to his chin before speaking. “Are you dense?”

Not sure what to do with that answer, Atsumu managed an unintelligent ‘huh.’

Kiyoomi sighed, closing his eyes and pressing two fingers on his forehead as if willing away an oncoming headache. “Yes, Miya.” 

Atsumu’s stomach flip flopped in his stomach, making him nauseous. It  _ was  _ a date. Holy  _ shit _ . 

It’s a  _ date.  _

Atsumu covered his face with his hands, feeling himself flush in embarrassment. “Omi-kun.” He whined. “Why didn’t ya tell me?”

“Why else would I invite you for dinner?”

Atsumu brought his hands down to his lap, staring at Kiyoomi with wide eyes. “Because we’re friends?!” He whisper-yelled. 

“Do you always dress up nicely for your friends?” Kiyoomi was eyeing Atsumu’s outfit; a maroon blazer thrown over one of his nicest white shirts, his best jeans and shoes. 

Atsumu looked at the table, mumbling a ‘no.’ His face and ears flushed darker. 

Kiyoomi only hummed.

“I just… don’t wantcha to feel forced to have somethin’ with me again.” 

“I’m not forcing myself to anything. You should know that better than anyone.”

Kiyoomi was right. He wouldn’t do something if he wasn’t invested or if it didn’t interest him. 

Atsumu felt like he was going to cry for the umpteenth time. He rubbed at his eyes harshly, willing away his tears. He was not going to cry in the middle of their date, even if they were happy tears. 

“Thank you, Omi.”

Kiyoomi looked at Atsumu confused. “What for?”

“For giving us another chance.” 

A dusty pink bloomed on Kiyoomi’s exposed cheeks as he looked away. 

As they were eating, Atsumu spoke. “Can I ask ya somethin’?”

Kiyoomi wiped at his mouth with a napkin and nodded.

“Have ya… remembered anythin’ else? Ya don’t have t’ answer.” 

Kiyoomi seemed to have thought about it before speaking. “I don’t know if it happened but… I was just waking up and you were tracing lines between the moles on my back.” He seemed embarrassed as he spoke, eyes on his meal rather than meeting Atsumu’s gaze. “It was vague so-”

“It happened, every mornin’.” Atsumu smiled at the memory of the first time he had done that. It was the first night at their new apartment, he had woken up before Kiyoomi but didn’t feel like getting out of bed just yet. He had decided to form non-existent constellations on Kiyoomi’s back. It was one of his favorite things to do in the morning’s. Kiyoomi hated waking up early and Atsumu would get bored; if Kiyoomi woke up it was  _ his _ problem. 

“It was a recent memory.” 

Atsumu cocked his head to the side. “How can ya tell?”

“You, um, had the chain with the ring.” 

“Oh.” Atsumu’s ears turned hot. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “I never wore it on my finger ‘cause of practice.”

Kiyoomi hummed in acknowledgement. 

After dinner, they decided to take a stroll in the park nearby. It was chilly for a spring night; the huddled close, but not close enough to be touching. Atsumu respected Kiyoomi’s space. He wanted to reach out and hold his hand, maybe link their arms together but he held himself back. He didn't want to make Kiyoomi uncomfortable. 

They stopped at a conbini around the corner, buying sweets and drinks. They sat on the table outside chatting about anything and nothing. Atsumu told Kiyoomi about how he was coping with the accident, how it affected him. He was honest with Kiyoomi, and told him how the past months hadn’t been easy. How he hadn’t been coping well and that Osamu and the team had to drag him out of bed most of the days.

Atsumu made sure to make Kiyoomi understand it wasn’t anyone’s fault; no one was to blame, not even Ushijima who had hit the spike. He knew Kiyoomi well enough to know he would be shouldering some of the blame. Atsumu didn’t want that. 

The setter was surprised when Kiyoomi placed a hand over his on the table. He nearly flinched, Kiyoomi’s fingers were freezing. Atsumu smiled at him reassuringly and turned his hand to squeeze Kiyoomi’s fingers. 

At the end of the night, Kiyoomi drove Atsumu home. He parked in Atsumu’s designated parking spot and turned to the setter. 

“Thank you for tonight. I know it was out of the blue but I had fun.” Kiyoomi’s smile was small yet it still made Atsumu’s cheeks flush. 

“I had fun, too, Omi.” He grinned at the wing spiker and unbuckled his seat belt. “Do you wanna come up for tea?”

“Isn’t it a little too soon for that?”

Atsumu spluttered at the implication in Kiyoomi’s tone. “That’s not what I meant!” His cheeks were red in embarrassment, eyes wide.

Kiyoomi chuckled, shaking his head. “I know. Maybe next time.”

“Next time?” The hope in Atsumu’s voice was as clear as the night sky.

“Next time.”

Atsumu grinned at Kiyoomi and bid him a good night before stepping out of the car. He couldn’t stop grinning on the way up to his apartment, hope swelling in his chest.

* * *

Atsumu woke up at exactly 6:58A.M. Two minutes from the usual time he awakens. He blearily blinked at the ceiling, fighting off the last remnants of sleep that were making his eyelids feel like they weighed a kilo each. He turned his head to the side, greeted with a mop of dark, curly hair peeking out from under the blankets. 

Atsumu felt himself smile.

Absentmindedly, he reached for Kiyoomi’s back, fingertips tracing the moles he’s memorized. He closed his eyes, sighing at the feeling of Kiyoomi’s warm back. He opened his eyes when he felt his lover move. 

Kiyoomi had turned around, eyes still closed. Atsumu knew he was awake if the frown on his face was anything to go by. 

Kiyoomi’s hand landed in his arm, pulling Atsumu closer. The setter obliged, one arm under Kiyoomi’s head the other wrapped around his middle. 

“Mornin, Omi.”

“Early.”

Atsumu chuckled and continued to run his fingertips over Kiyoomi’s back, feeling him relax further. 

“‘S nice.”

Atsumu hummed, closing his eyes again as he pressed his lips against Kiyoomi’s forehead, right on the two moles. 

The past year and a half had been a long road with unexpected twists and turns, tears and arguments, good and bad times. Kiyoomi hadn’t recovered all of his memories, so Atsumu had taken it upon himself to fill in those gaps, taking Kiyoomi to the places they had visited. They had slowly progressed to being how they used to, it was overwhelming for Atsumu. He had thought it was going to be different, thinking he would have to tiptoe and keep things from Kiyoomi. Yet Kiyoomi had proved him wrong; he was curious about their relationship and how they had been before the accident. 

Atsumu had been honest, telling him everything he needed to know, from their first date to the day they moved in together, showing Kiyoomi the pictures he had stashed away. 

The memories brought a smile to Atsumu’s face, pulling Kiyoomi just a little bit closer. 

“Can feel you thinking.” Kiyoomi mumbled, face pressed against Atsumu’s shirt clad chest. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothin’, just thinking’ ‘bout us.” 

Kiyoomi hummed in acknowledgement. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Omi.”

The thought that had always chewed at him was if they would turn out alright. 

He looked down at Kiyoomi, already asleep again and smiled.

_ Yeah, _ Atsumu thought.  _ We’ll be okay. _

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcome!
> 
> Socials: Socials: [carrd](https://katouhxru.carrd.co)


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